Frog in the Woods
by littlemisspanda
Summary: A frog with big dreams ponders about his future, but all that is put on hold when he is thrust into a situation he cannot control. He's stuck with two brothers and a talking bluebird in unfamiliar woods, far from home. And he doesn't even know his name. The story of the mini-series told through Greg's frog.
1. Chapter 1: Into the Unknown

To swim.

To play.

To eat.

To sleep.

To mate.

To reproduce.

That was the life of a frog. He was expected to follow it. All frogs were expected to follow it without question. Besides, what was there to question? The instructions were clear, ingrained in their minds, instincts all organisms followed.

But of course, every frog had his own quirks, right? There had to be another frog in the family who wanted something more than the programmed duties of life. Something big. Something...musical.

Something that was over the garden wall.

And something that was too high to reach.

...Or was it?

* * *

><p>There was no dirge or mourning today, but there were voices, young voices that disregarded the dead's need for peace. Though, not everyone wanted the graveyard to be as quiet as possible.<p>

On the opposite side of the cemetery wall, a large, slimy frog leaned closer to the wearing stones, peeking through a small hole, eager to hear the human conversations on the other side. He had just finally convinced his folks that, no, he wasn't going to play with them in the pond, disappointing them greatly in the process, but he didn't care much. The pond could wait. Right now, he wanted to listen to the humans and fantasize about what it would be like to be admired by them.

The frog had listened to those voices ever since he had discovered this wall and the world on the other side. After having carefully listened and observed their actions through holes, the human speech had almost become a second language to him, though he could not physically speak it. The funeral dirge was his first taste in music, and though he wished funerals played something more than just mournful melodies, he grew to love listening to the songs. He was sure there was more interesting music over this wall-maybe something more happy-and he dreamt of singing along with lyrics of his own. Too bad his voice was only limited to monotone ribbiting, as with all frogs.

That wasn't going to let him down, though. He could still sing, even if it comes out in the form of ugly croaking; it won't stop him from singing his heart out. Having a human voice might be impossible, just as it was impossible for him to get over the wall or to be able to perform to humans, but even if it was, he could always pretend. Yes, pretending would suffice.

He closed his eyes, and he pictured himself playing a rotating piano-an instrument that he could only picture through his great grandfather's description-facing a crowd in a dimly lit auditorium. He opened his mouth, and a lovely voice rose from his throat.

_"At night when the lake is a mirror_

_And the moon rides the waves to the shore_

_A single soul sets his voice singing_

_Content to be slightly forlorn_

_A song rises over the lilies_

_Sweeps high to clear over the reeds_

_And over the bulrushes' swaying_

_To pluck at a pair of heartstrings_

_Two voices, now-"_

"Dear, you've been here for hours. Are you going to come back anytime soon? Some of your brothers and sisters want to say good winter before they go to sleep."

The frog snapped out of his reverie. Of course, his mother would be the first one to notice his long absence.

"Mother, I'll be with the folks in a moment. I'm a little busy doing...uh…" The frog-the eldest of fifteen children-racked his mind with a believable excuse.

"There's no need to tell me. Are you working on a new song?" The petite female frog smirked knowingly. She was fully aware of her boy's ambitions.

"Yes…" He sighed, it was embarrassing talking about his musical interests to his folks, mainly because they didn't seem to understand how much they meant to him. His siblings usually made fun of him because they thought his dreams of fame and fortune were pointless to hold onto.

An awkward silence followed the frog's answer, piquing his concern. It wasn't like his mother to be so silent; he noticed that she suddenly seemed very sad about something. After several minutes, she reluctantly spilled out what had been on her mind for so long.

"My boy...I-I think that there's not a lot of time between us. You know...I can't keep you forever. You're almost an adult now, and-and-" His mother suddenly broke down sobbing, still trying to form words from her jumbled mind.

Her first child quickly hopped to her side, patting her back, trying to comfort her. It hurt him to see her like this.

"I understand what you mean, you don't need to say anything else. I'll stay with you for a little while more, so you don't need to rush it. When we do part ways, please know that I'll always be grateful for what you've done, all of us are grateful, for taking us in when we needed help the most. You mean the world to us, and one day, I'll promise to repay you, mother. Cross my heart," the frog said softly. He could feel himself starting to tear up, and he quickly wiped his eyes before she could see the tears.

"Oh, I don't know why all of you insist on calling me mother. You know it's not like that," she wailed, hiccupping between words.

"You may not think much of it, but to us, you'll always be the most important person, our guardian, our mother. You never had to help any of us, but you did, and we are indebted," he said as he pulled his mother into a hug.

As the frog was consoling, his worries heightened as he noticed the dark bags under his mother's eyes. She must be staying up way longer than she was supposed to.

"Mother, why don't you go back first. A little rest will help you," he implored. This was probably not good for her health.

"If I rest now, I'll be waking up in spring. I'm afraid of going into deep sleep when you have been delaying yours," she looked at him tearfully.

"Don't worry about me. If you go into deep sleep, it won't take long for me to go into it, too," he spoke while leading her back down the hill to their home. He wasn't sure if he was doing a good job in reassuring her, but she had calmed down and was gradually becoming sleepier and sleepier as they got closer to their den.

"Honey, I know you hate to hear this, but you can't just spend all day at the wall. You know it won't get you anywhere. Why don't you find a mate?" She spoke with a tired voice.

Rather than being annoyed at the words-which he usually is when his siblings said it-it made him sadder. Usually, his mother wouldn't even consider criticizing her son's interests out loud, even though she secretly disapproved of it. If she was also starting to tell him how he should go about his life, that must mean that she didn't believe that it will be long before they go their separate paths.

When they finally reached their home, she settled down on a spot of wet mud, and looked up at her adopted child with fatigued, unfocused eyes.

"Good winter, my son."

"Good winter, mother."

The frog turned to leave, but before he could do that, his mother called out again.

"Son?"

"Yes, mother?"

"...Can you sing me a song?"

This took him by surprise. Usually, people made fun of the frog for making song lyrics in his free time, singing it in front of them was out of the question. Even his mother never asked him to do it, until now.

"O-Okay."

He quickly made up his lyrics as he went.

_"Led through the mist,_

_By the milk-light of moon,_

_All that was lost, is revealed._

_Our long bygone burdens, mere echoes of the spring,_

_But where have we come, and where shall we end?_

_If dreams can't come true, then why not pretend?"_

The song felt incomplete, but the frog noticed that his mother had already drifted to sleep, so he stopped so as not to disturb her. He'll think up the rest of the lyrics later.

He hopped over to his siblings, planning to say good winter to them as well. A pang of guilt hit him as he saw that all of them had already buried themselves in mud and gone off into deep sleep. Well, he'll apologize to them in spring.

He found a spacious spot for him to sleep, and sunk down into it, planning to get up when the weather was warmer. But there was one problem: he can't fall asleep.

After a while, the insomniac frog rose up from the mud. There was no point in lying there if he couldn't sleep, and went back up the hill to the wall, the only thing separating him from his dreams.

As he hopped, he thought back to his mother's words. He didn't want to leave her, but it's the way of nature, as they all say. If he didn't leave, she would have to leave first.

She had seemed so sorrowful then, he almost thought parting ways wasn't a good idea. She was right, though, he had to leave her soon enough. He was almost an adult, and he needed to start taking care of himself. In fact, he should had been able to take care of himself the moment he was born, but he was too weak at that time, if it hadn't been for her, he wouldn't have been alive. The problem is, though, how is he going to look after himself? He could do the usual insect hunting and all that, but he's going to have trouble finding mates. He wasn't the, ah, most popular frog in the community. Hardly anyone was interested in his songs...

His thoughts were interrupted when he reached the wall. There seemed to be a lot of yelling going on. His interests rose from the possibility of drama. Just what was going on?

_"-get down from that wall!"_

_"That's it. That's the end."_

_"No, darn it-no! I mean come down this way!"_

Something landed next to the frog, startling him. He hastily hopped to the nearest shrub and hid himself inside it.

_"Once again, you ruin my life."_

_"Who? Me?"_

Two humans had climbed over the wall. The frog, not knowing if he wanted to be seen by them, crouched still in his hiding spot. The voices seemed to belong to a young child and an older teenager.

_"Ugh, you and your stupid dad! You're always prodding me, trying to get me to join marching band!"_

_"Oh yeah! If you join the marching, you can hang out with Sara more!"_

_"That ship has sailed, Greg, thanks to you messing that up too."_

"No need to be so harsh on someone so young," the frog croaked quietly to himself. Unfortunately, he didn't croak quietly enough, because the younger one's attention suddenly shifted to the shrub that he was hiding in.

"_Hold that thought, Wirt."_

_"Ugh, what are you doing now?"_

Oh no, he had to get out of-.

He couldn't even complete the thought when he felt himself being lifted up against his will, coming face to face to a human in blue and red. The frog was terrified and intrigued at the same time; this was the first time he had seen one up close.

_"Haha! We found our lucky frog! We gotta name him for good luck."_

"Name?" He ribbited.

He never really had a name. Ever since he was young, he knew when his mother or his siblings were addressing him. Everyone just seemed to naturally know who was talking to whom. A name had never really seemed necessary.

_"I don't want to have anything to do with you, or that frog!"_

_"Okay, I'll try to think of a name myself."_

_"Ugh, I'm leaving."_

He had been quietly observing this interesting exchange of dialog, when he suddenly became alarmed by a distant, familiar noise.

_"Hmm…?"_

He remembered vaguely of a gory scene of a frog that hadn't been able to hop away to safety in time. Was he going to become that too? Immediately after that thought, he saw his field of vision suddenly leap away from the train's light.

And then, blackness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I've been wanting to write a story from the frog's thoughts, because he had no speaking parts. I've always wondered about what he may be possibly thinking while on this wild adventure. I'm not sure if future chapters are going to be longer or shorter. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter to this. Feedback is appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Old Grist Mill

"_...Albert Salami, Giggly Jumping Tom Thomas Tamborine, Legface..."_

The frog wasn't really paying attention to the younger one's name suggestions. He still didn't believe a name was really needed. Besides, he was the only frog here. In fact, one thing he never understood about humans was why they had to call each other names. Every one of them looked different, so why bother labeling?

Suddenly, the older human interrupted the child's naming.

"_Wait, wait a sec… uhh, Greg… Where… are we?"_

That was a good point. The frog had never been to the woods before. Was there even a forest near his home? He couldn't seem to remember. Normally, he would probably panic when he found himself in situations like these, but for some reason, he felt strangely calm.

The child also seemed to take it really well. The teenager seemed to be the only one who was scared. He watched as the two… brothers-he's going to assume they were brothers-exchanged dialog and-ugh, why did the child have to lean on his face? Luckily, the child quickly noticed and took his hand off of his head.

In the midst of their talk, the teenager suddenly broke out into poetry, and a melodramatic one at that. Something about a "lost love." Yeesh. As much as he loved singing, he had never broke out into song at random times.

The teenager was interrupted by distant chopping sounds, and his poetry was replaced by the imagining of a horrific scenario.

"_Doyouthinkit'ssomekindofderangedlunaticwithanaxewaitingoutthereinthedarknessforinnocentvictims?" _

Well, whether or not there was, the frog was about to find out soon enough. The young boy holding him dashed through the forest without glancing back at his brother. He stopped at a large tree trunk and looked over its roots. A man past his middle ages was chopping branches off a tree and idly humming a song. A brightly lit lantern stood by his side.

The tree in question greatly perturbed the frog. Oil leaked out of its holes, and the holes looked uncomfortably like a face, and not a happy one at that.

The older brother had caught up with them, whispering furiously about how the younger one was going to get them into trouble, but his attention was quickly diverted by the humming woodsman.

"_We should ask him for help," _the younger brother suggested.

"_No, we should not ask him for help."_

"_But-"_

"_SHH!"_

"_You shush!"_

The two brothers proceeded to get into a shushing war.

The frog, at least, thought that it wouldn't hurt much to ask him. The man looked harmless enough, despite the fact that he was chopping what seemed to be a crying tree. He wondered if it cried because it was being chopped and essentially killed, but that idea seemed ridiculous and far-fetched. Then again, so were his dreams.

Before a decision was made (they were both too busy shushing each other), the woodsman had picked up his sticks and left the area. Their only chance of help seemed to be gone.

"_Shoot, you think we should have asked him for help?"_

Oh, _now_ you decide that you should ask him, the frog thought sarcastically. Before he could add in an annoyed ribbit, someone else spoke out.

"_Maybe I can help you."_

All three turned to where the sudden voice came from. The frog's eyes almost popped out of his head. The voice seemed to have come from a nearby branch, but the only thing standing on the branch was a bluebird. Was that bluebird talking like a human?

"_I mean, you guys are lost, right?"_

The teenager was having trouble comprehending a talking bird; the child took it in stride, as he seemed to be doing with everything that was out of the ordinary, and was busy putting candy all over the place, including a turtle and his brother's cape. The frog, though also weirded out, felt more envious than confused. How was that bird able to talk fluent human language so easily? He had never heard the birds around his home talk. Maybe they all did so in secret?

"_...a bird's brain isn't big enough for cognisant speech."_

That's what the frog had thought, too.

The bluebird, meanwhile, was offended with the older brother's comment, and the teenager did not help matters by calling the bird an "it." She seemed to be an easily offended bird. The frog could understand why the brain part could be offensive, but humans called animals "it" all the time, she should just get used to it.

"_What are you doing here?!" _

The woodsman had suddenly popped out from the darkness, startling the three of them and scaring the bluebird away.

"_Calm-calm down mister. W-whatever you do here is your business. W-we just want to get home with all of our legs and arms attached," _the teenager stuttered, frightened.

"_These woods are not a place for children! Don't you know the Beast is afoot here?"_

Beast? Like, a raccoon? All frogs generally considered them to be beasts.

"_The Beast? W-w-we don't know anything about that. W-w-w-we're just two lost kids tryin' to get home!"_

"_Well, welcome to The Unknown, boys. You're more lost than you realize."_

That didn't sound good. For once, the frog felt a sense of urgency. What if he didn't come back home by spring, and his mother woke up to him missing? Would she think he was eaten by predators? Accidentally slept in quicksand? Left to pursue his independent life? He couldn't imagine how she would react.

* * *

><p>The woodsman took them inside a mill. There, he lit a fire as the child continued to put down a trail of candy from the door. The older brother asked him about his work, which the woodsman responded with a vague answer about having to keep the lantern lit.<p>

Maybe he wasn't the best person to ask for help. The frog couldn't understand why a lantern had to be kept lit forever. The teenager seemed to have the same idea, and quietly suggested to his brother that they leave the place, though the frog thought knocking him out was a bit excessive. The woodsman didn't do anything else that was suspicious. Soon enough, their conversation degraded into yet another shushing battle.

The woodsman heard the whisperings (they shush too loud), and before anything could be done, the younger brother blurted out their entire plan. The man was… surprisingly unoffended by it. Instead, he warned them about the Beast once more, and that it had something to do with singing mournful melodies and searching for souls. Then, he declared that he had to work in the mill, and left the three alone in the room.

"_Huh, I guess... we could just leave," _the older brother said uncertainly, "_Uhgh, I don't know… Greg!"_

"_What?" _

As the younger brother replied, he grabbed for a nearby log, releasing the frog he had been holding.

He hopped away, spotting that the door to the outside was open, and he hopped out. As soon as he did, the door behind him quietly slammed shut. Well, that wasn't a good idea. Now, how was he going to get back in?

Originally, he just wanted some space from the humans, being in such close proximity to them was actually kind of overwhelming. Admittedly, he had hoped that the two would become his first fans, but then he remembered that they don't even share the same language, so what was the point? But he didn't know if leaving them was the best idea. Even without some Beast lurking around the woods, he didn't want to be in there alone. He knew full well how defenseless a frog was among unfamiliar territory, ripe for predators to eat.

Now, isolated in a place he did not know, the frog felt extremely vulnerable. He was pretty sure he heard something growl among the trees, and his mind went back to the Beast that the woodsman had warned so fervently about. The frog quivered in terror.

Then, he remembered his mother's tearful face, and his fear was slowly replaced with determination. No, the frog was not going to be eaten or stuck here forever. He had to see her one last time, when she awoke in spring.

First, he had to find a way back into the mill. He hopped around the perimeter of the house, and hearing the woodsman's humming, came upon an open window over a barrel. He hopped onto the rocks and looked up. Well, getting to the top of the barrel was going to be difficult, but nothing he's never done before. He crouched low, charging himself up with a high jump, and took off.

He overshot and missed the edge, instead falling to the bottom of the open barrel. Great, now he was stuck here. He had never considered starving to death as the possible obstacles from home. Almost immediately after that thought, the frog heard the front door open.

"_Kitty! Kitty! Now where did that frog named Kitty go?"_

It was the younger brother, and for some reason the frog's name was now Kitty. He slapped himself with his webbed hands, what kind of name was that? No matter, the boy could help get him out of the barrel. He inhaled and croaked as loud as he could.

"_That frog's giving me the run around."_

Through the opening of the barrel, he saw someone climb onto the edge of the barrel, presumably the child. The boy did not seem to notice the frog yet, and was busy looking into the open window, so the frog let loose another loud croak.

"_Kitty?...Hmm… is that-whoop!"_

The child fell into the barrel, landing on top of the frog. He winced, humans were definitely a lot heavier than frogs.

"_Oh there you are!"_

"Get off of me!" The frog ribbited in protest. It was getting hard to breathe with his weight on him.

His annoyance was suddenly dispelled by the growls growing ever louder in the distance. Now that it seemed closer, it sounded even more menacing than a raccoon, which he never even knew was possible. Was this supposed to be the Beast?

The child heard the growling as well, and he called out uncertainly.

"_Wirt?" _

Footsteps could be heard accompanying the growling. Heavy footsteps that grew louder each second.

Nope. He's not a frog. He's not food. He's not in this barrel. Stop talking child. Please don't mind this barrel. It's just a barrel.

"_Kitty?"_

PLEASE BE QUIET.

Too late.

A black… _thing _peered into the barrel. It's rainbow colored eyes glowing brightly in the darkness of the container.

"_You have beautiful eyes!" _The child exclaimed, but the compliment didn't quell the creature. It opened its mouth and… those teeth were sharper than any predator he had ever seen.

The creature violently shoved its head into the barrel, almost biting off a chunk of the child. In a twisted way, the frog was actually glad now that the child was on top of him. This meant that the creature would go for the boy first. Luckily for the both of them, it wasn't able to fit more of its body into the barrel.

Suddenly, the creature fell back with its head still stuck in the barrel, causing it to tilt sideways. The boy was quick enough to cling onto the insides of the barrel. Thankfully, he grabbed the frog before he fell into the chomping jaws of the beast. Maybe the boy wasn't such a liability after all.

The thing started shaking its head furiously, trying to get the barrel off. Finally, it slammed the barrel at the wall and broke it into pieces. The boy and the frog desperately scrambled away from the creature of darkness, both racing towards the mill. The boy quickly flung the door open and tried to close the door behind him, but the creature broke through the door before it could be done.

So much for this house being a safe haven. The frog hopped to the safety of the woodsman, except the child decided that now was the correct time to knock him out. So much for that guy as well.

The creature went for the older brother, only for it to be distracted by the younger one spanking it with the handle of the woodsman's axe. The frog debated on whether to leave them as bait or to stay; he only needed them to get back home, but then again, he needed them nonetheless. Weirdly enough, the teenager had no qualms ditching them.

The creature roared at the two of them. Yeah, they should probably leave, too.

"_Candy… camouflage!"_

The boy reached into his pants, grabbing a handful of candy and showering them everywhere, then grabbed the frog and running out the door, dragging the axe along with him.

The creature charged at them, running straight through the doorway and toppling shelves and machinery.

"_This is amazing, huh?" _The younger brother called excitedly.

Not really.

The older brother caught sight of a sack of potatoes, and threw the potatoes at it, attempting to repel it. It didn't work.

"_Am I supposed to throw something?" _

The child looked between the axe and the frog. For a moment, the frog was scared that he was going to be the one thrown.

Before he could, however, the creature roared loudly, sending the kid off his feet. It pounced inches away from him and the frog, but then a spark of realization reached the boy's eyes.

"_Oh yeah! Haha!"_

He reached into his pants and threw candy all over the creature. This caught its attention, and it proceeded to lick up and devour the candy thrown.

Oh, so it was the candy that the thing was after.

When it had licked up all the candy, the creature, wanting more, toppled the table the brothers were standing on, sending them all to the ground. The frog climbed onto the young one's tea kettle. He was faster than the frog, so he'll just ride on him.

The two brothers quickly climbed up to the roof, but the creature easily burst through it.

"_U-uhhh Greg! Give him the rest of your candy!"_

The younger brother reached into its pants, only to come out empty-handed. Shoot, if there's no candy, what else would it eat? Hopefully not meat, right?

As if on cue, the boy noticed the last piece of candy sticking onto the older brother's cape, grabbed it, and threw it down the rotating mill. The creature dove straight for it, and its body landed between the mill and a rock, jamming the mill and wrecking the roof they were on, causing them to fall off.

The three of them fell into the stream. The frog preferred to just swim to the surface, but the younger brother grabbed him and sat him on top of a dog. Wait, was that the creature?

On the grass, the frog spotted a familiar black turtle, the one that the child had put candy on top of. It couldn't have walked all the way here in a short amount of time, so something else must have transported it here.

The dog booted them both off of his back, shook himself clean, and walked away. Suddenly, the woodsman cried out.

"_The mill is destroyed. The oil, all gone!"_

"_B-But look! We got the Beast problem solved," _the older brother pointed at the resting dog. Well, the brother's got a point.

"_That dog?! THAT is not the Beast! The Beast cannot be mollified like some farmer's pet! He stalks like the night. He sings like the four winds. He's the death of hope! He steals children, and he'll ruin the-the…"_

This resulted in the teenager scolding at his brother about "always messing up," hitting the kettle on his head. But the woodsman scolded at the older brother, telling him that it was his responsibility to take care of his sibling. The frog silently agreed, when his younger siblings were punished for their actions, he was always included in them. Sometimes, he would tell himself that going to the wall was a bad habit. It put his siblings out of his sight, leaving them vulnerable.

The frog was more worried about this Beast, though. By children, did he mean human children, or just children in general? Maybe the frog could be counted as an adult now?

The woodsman directed the boys North to find a town, again warning them of the Beast and the forest of the Unknown.

Lastly, the woodsman spoke to the younger brother.

"_And little one, you have that frog, give it a proper name."_

"Yes, please do that," the frog croaked in agreement. If he was going to get a name, he didn't want to be called "Kitty" for the rest of their journey.

As they walked, the younger one-Greg- spoke up again.

"_Wirt, I think I thought of a name for our new frog."_

The frog perked up. This should be interesting.

"_I'm gonna call him Wirt."_

No, he did not want to have the same name as the brother. Besides, Wirt was a really weird name to begin with.

"_That's going to be really confusing."_

"_Nope, I'm gonna call you, Kitty."_

Well, to be honest, Wirt was better than Kitty.

"_What? Maybe I'll start calling you, Candypants."_

"_Whoa. Yeah!"_

"Better than Kitty," the frog chuckled.

"_Good one, Wirt."_

"_Thanks."_

"_I'm not talkin' to you, I'm talkin' to Wirt!"_

And on they went…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey guys, hoped you enjoyed this chapter. I thought presenting the frog's point of view was actually a nice challenge, mostly because he was so inexpressive for most of the episode, so I had to really imagine what was going on in his head. I hope you like this story so far!**


	3. Chapter 3: Hard Times at the Huskin' Bee

They were still walking when the sun came up.

The frog perched idly on the boy's tea kettle as he made raspberry noises by puffing up his cheeks and deflating them with his fingers. They had been walking for hours, yet no sign of a town. The brother repeated the frog's thoughts.

The boy - the frog stopped himself mid-thought. He was still getting used to thinking of the boy as Greg. For all his troubles, he did make sure that the frog didn't get eaten. It's only fair to acknowledge his name. But anyways, Greg, as usual, was not perturbed by his brother's apprehension.

"_Have you been listening to anything that I've been saying? For the last couple of hours, I've been saying..." _He let out another wave of raspberries.

Ugh, maybe this horrid sound would be more muffled if the frog went into the kettle. Why can't this boy at least hum? Even the brother's poems was better than this; at least he effectively used rhythm and emotion in them, as melodramatic as they were.

"_Well, that settles it, I'm gonna walk ten feet ahead of you."_

The brother sped up his pace, walking away from they boy, and the frog contemplated hopping onto the brother. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, catching both the frog and Greg's - yes, he was getting it down - attention.

"_Help! I'm stuck!"_

"_I hear something!" _Greg yelled to his brother.

"_It's probably nothing,"_ his brother replied nonchalantly, walking over to a wooden sign nailed onto a tree, "_Hey, look! Pottsfield one mile! A-a town! Let's go this way!"_

Greg went the opposite direction, towards where the cry came from. He was within a feet to the source when it suddenly dawned on the frog where he had remembered the voice.

Greg pulled away the leaves in a nearby shrub to reveal a bluebird stuck in its branches. _The _bluebird.

"_Oh, it's you again. I'm stuck. Help me outta here and I'll owe you a favor"_

A favor? The frog looked at his webbed hands. Maybe if he got her out, she'll teach him how to speak human. The only problem is how.

"_Whoa! I get a wish?"_

The frog peered at the boy. He didn't want him to take away this chance. Though, the frog had to admit the boy would have a much easier time getting her out.

"_No, no, no. Not a wish. I'm not magical. I'll just do you a good turn."_

See? The boy could always pass on the favor to his good, loyal amphibian companion who deserves it more than he does, right?

"_Can you turn me into a tiger?"_

Good thing the bluebird couldn't do that. While the boy tried to reason that he didn't have to be a magical tiger, the frog worked on a plan to get the bird out. Hopefully, she'll be grateful enough to teach him her secrets. He was so distracted he didn't realize that the brother had walked back to Greg.

"_Greg, stop talking to a bush."_

"_Okay."_

And before the frog could do anything, the boy reached into the bush and pulled the bluebird free. Well, maybe the boy could always give the favor to the frog. As the bluebird expressed her gratitude, the frog gave her the warmest smile he could muster. Mother always told him: a big friendly smile is the best tool of persuasion.

His hopes were dashed by the bluebird's next words.

"_How about I take you to Adelaide of the Pasture. The good woman of the woods. She could help you get home."_

Oh, she had already decided on a favor. His smile froze in place. Well… he needed to get home too. Though, they could probably do it without Adele or whatever. Who needs a random old lady to get home? A lesson in human speaking seemed like a much better favor.

The brother didn't take the favor either, instead deciding that going to Pottsfield was a much better choice. Greg followed suit, picking up the frog and running up to his brother. The bluebird quickly grew annoyed.

"_What about my favor?" _She insisted as she flew after Greg.

"_I'll think of my wish later."_

The bluebird scoffed. Well, the bird could always do the frog a favor.

As they walked along the path, the boy engaged the talking bluebird with some small talk. The bluebird actually had a name, which was "Beatrice". Maybe having a proper name contributed to being able to talk?

The boy introduced himself and his brother to the bluebird. Then, he got to the frog. Somewhere along the way, Greg had unfortunately changed his name to "Wirt Junior". Thankfully, he added in that the name might change and relief washed over the frog. Wirt Jr. was definitely not a proper name, he'll never be able to speak with that name.

The bird brushed aside the introductions. Instead, she tried to goad the boy - Greg - into ditching his brother and presumably going with her to this Adele lady. He declined the offer.

Greg then questioned the bluebird whether or not she liked "waffles" (the frog had never heard of that term before), and, for once, was dismayed by her answer, which was no. He was so distracted he did not see the pumpkin in the way. The frog, still in his shell-shocked state, couldn't even muster out a croak to warn him before his foot planted right into the heart of the pumpkin.

Greg was at first startled by his newly acquired pumpkin shoe, but he was quickly distracted by Wirt's happy discovery: the sign had actually led them into a town. Turning to Beatrice with a triumphant smile, the brother…also stepped into pumpkin, which he promptly kicked off.

"_Alright, let's rejoin society."_

Wait, rejoin society? It suddenly dawned on the frog that the brothers could get a ride home instead of walking through the forest back to the wall from where they came from. He had never factored that in. What if, when the brothers returned to their home, he ended up more lost than before? He looked up at Greg, if only he could speak human. He calmed himself down. Okay, maybe this place does not have any cars around, and they'll still walk back, hopefully. As they got nearer, the frog's hopes seemed to be fulfilled. It was an old fashioned town and no vehicle was in sight. In fact, there seemed to be no one living here. The bird even called it a "ghost town," but the frog knew better. He had seen real ghosts by the wall before.

Eventually, the brother left the group to look for inhabitants. As they waited, Greg hopped right into a nearby pile of hay. His playfulness reminded the frog of his own younger siblings. He remembered how they would always try to get him to play in the pond. He really needed to get home, if only to play with his siblings one last time before he ventured off on his own.

Not soon after, the brother walked back with a completely neutral expression plastered on his face.

"_Did you find anything?" _The bird asked.

"_Nope. Where's Greg?"_

Suddenly, Greg popped his head out of the haystack, showering straws of hay everywhere.

"_Did you hear that?"_

Greg pointed at a large building a few ways off. There seemed to be singing coming from it, meaning people. Everyone exchanged looks for a second, so this place wasn't deserted, and proceeded towards there. Upon reaching the barn, they looked inside through the half-open door.

What they saw were, to be brief, walking pumpkins in festivity. Some of them were dancing around a large makeshift pumpkin hanging on the ceiling attached to streamers; many others were peeling harvested crops; some were trying to pick apples from a barrel of water; and a couple was seen dancing with a black cat. Greg and his brother was as confused as the frog was.

A pumpkin man pushed past them, pardoning himself. Once inside, he turned to them.

"_See you fools to adorn your vegetables and celebrate the harvest with us."_

"_Uhh...Oh! You're wearing costumes!"_ The brother answered.

"_Well sure, pumpkins can't move on their own. Can they?"_

That seemed to be like an odd tradition. Then again, who was the frog to judge? Sleeping through the winter was something humans don't do, apparently.

"_Good thing I didn't take this off!"_

Greg gestured to the pumpkin that was still on his foot. Seeing it made him feel a little uneasy. Hopefully, they won't be too bothered by one ruined crop. Maybe people will think the pumpkin was part of his costume, not something he stepped on.

"_You find this place as creepy as I do, right?"_

Not as creepy as a bird talking. The frog glared at her, still not over the fact that she wouldn't share her secrets.

Meanwhile, the brother responded to her question by deeming that the people were probably in a cult, but they seemed "nice enough," so he could ask one of them for a ride. The frog didn't see what was wrong, though. At the very least, the frog only saw humans use pumpkins during a tradition called "Halloween", and he had sometimes see people pass by the graveyard looking like pumpkins. Also, the frog had yet to see a vehicle in this town, so no ride for them, thankfully.

"_Beatrice… Thank you, but you can leave," _Wirt said, waving at her as if she had already left.

The bird sighed. "_I can't leave. I'm honor bound to help you since you guys helped me. It's the… bluebird rules."_

Again, if only the frog could find a way to tell her he wanted lessons from her. The brother seemed puzzled by the words, but then he quickly dismissed it, and went into the crowd asking for help.

"_Beatrice? Would you care for this dance?" _Greg asked while walking towards the dancing area.

"_Nooo… thanks. No thanks. No thanks! I said no thank you!"_

The frog smirked. Serves her right, stupid talking animal.

Suddenly, he caught something moving from the top corner of his eye. He turned his head to the direction it came from, but the most noticeable thing there was the great makeshift pumpkin. The frog eyed it warily. Surely it wasn't that thing that moved.

Before he could ponder more about it, Greg set him down on the floor and lifted one of his webbed hands. He delicately placed a kiss on it. The frog noticed that the bluebird had flew out of reach of the boy.

"_Lovely night, is it not?"_

"But it's not night yet," the frog croaked.

Greg seemed to take it as if the frog had asked him to dance, and grabbed hold of his hand, trying to make the frog stand on his hind feet. That was practically impossible to do on a frog though, but to please him, the frog compromised by trying to hop three legged as he and Greg waltzed in circles, trying to step in rhythm to the folk song. Greg laughed, and he tried to hop along, but the pumpkin proved to be too heavy to do it for long. Then, he stood on the foot with the pumpkin and spun around, accidentally dropping the frog back on the ground. The frog couldn't help but smile.

Suddenly, the music stopped. The people around them grew quiet, and they all turned to the traveling group. Before he knew it, the pumpkin people began to close in on him and Greg.

"_Oh, are we leaving already?" _Greg asked.

"_Let's leave immediately!" _The bird said, looking warily at the suddenly hostile crowd.

"_I-I'm just trying to get home," _Greg's brother said as he backed away uncertainly.

Well with all these people, it would certainly be hard to leave. The pumpkin people continued to surround the group as suspicious whispers traveled among the crowd.

"_Maybe he's here to steal our crops."_

"_Or ruin our party!"_

"_Or take off our pumpkin shoes!" _Greg chimed in happily, unaware of the change in atmosphere.

His brother laughed nervously.

"_U-uh no, I… uhh-"_

Suddenly, a deep chuckle resonated in the barn, and the great pumpkin began to move from its spot, its streamers detaching from their posts and moved effortlessly as if they were limbs.

"_Now hold on, everybody. Let's not jump into conclusions."_

"_Enoch!" _One of the people, one that had his head in an old, wrinkly pumpkin, shouted, "_What shall we do with them?"_

The bird couldn't take it anymore.

"_I-I'm done," _and she flew away, because she could, just like how she could talk. Wait, maybe this wasn't the right time to think about this. He could croak angrily at her later.

The makeshift pumpkin continued.

"_Ah... Let's see here, boys. How did you end up in this little town of ours?"_

"_Well, we were... trying to get home, and we... came into town from the words. Eh, we saw your farms and you houses and... we thought 'Hey! Here's a normal town with normal people!'"_

"_And we put on some pumpkins!" _Greg added.

"_Yeah! A-and we heard the music in the barn and…"_

The pumpkin people stared, wordless. The frog resisted his instinctive fight-or-flight response. Something tells him it won't do him any good here. At least, he wouldn't have as much success as the bird.

"_Uhh… H-how-how about we just leave."_

The pumpkin let out another dry laugh, two of his streamers making arm-like motions.

"_Now let me get this straight. You come to our town. You trample our crops. You interrupt our private engagement. Now you wanna leave."_

"_Uhh… yes."_

"_You'll never convict! You have no proof!"_

Please, boys. Don't make this worse.

"_This one's tryin' to escape!" _The old pumpkin man that had asked his leader of their fate returned with the bluebird struggling in his hands.

"_Children, it saddens me that you don't wish to stay here with us."_

Oh, again with the children business. This was it, right? This was the Beast that the woodsman was talking about, right? Adulthood seems more and more tempting by the minute.

"_Particularly because I simply have to punish you for your transgressions."_

And all his streamers started to lift and shiver violently. So was this how the frog was going to meet his fate? Eaten by pumpkins? He had wanted more dignified death.

"_I told you this place was bad news."_

For once, the frog agreed with her.

The pumpkin ignored the bird's statement and continued.

"_So by… the order of the Pottsfield Chamber of Commerce, I hereby find you guilty of trespassing…" _

It leaned forward.

"_... destruction of property…" _

It leaned downward.

"_... disturbing the peace…"_

It creeped towards the group.

"_... and murder."_

It came in such close proximity that the only thing in the frog's field of vision was its expressionless face. Wait…

"_Murder?!" _The brother exclaimed as the same thought came to the frog.

The pumpkin chuckled. Pleased with the brother's attentiveness.

"_O-oh no. Not murder, but for those other crimes, I sentence you to… "_

Death by devourment?

"_... a few hours of manual labor."_

* * *

><p>Greg placed the frog on his pitchfork and lifted him high in the air, giving him a nice perspective of what was happening around him, not like he needed it. His brother was the only one who was busy raking, while the bird was sitting around pouting.<p>

From the looks of it, the labor wasn't that hard; all they had to do was help the pumpkin people with their harvest. The frog still couldn't believe that the only punishment they got was manual labor, and he wasn't even included in it. Everyone else had a ball and chain around their legs, even the bird.

He watched as the brothers picked corn and pumpkins. At one point, the giant turkeys decided to poke some fun at the brother and took his hat. The frog passed time by following Greg around and glaring at the bluebird, though she didn't take much note of it. It didn't take long for the frog to get tired glaring.

However, amidst the calmness, there was an unsettling feeling in the air. The frog knew the pumpkin people were watching them closely, and he had a feeling that they wouldn't be let off that easily.

Finally, they were on the last task. This one, funnily enough, didn't seem to have anything to do with the harvest. The brothers were required to dig holes in a barren part of the field.

The frog tuned out the bickering between the brother and the bird. They weren't talking about anything of interest. He thought about his family back home. Hopefully, they all went into winter sleep before he disappeared; he didn't want to worry them. Though, how is he going to get back home? The bird said that there was a lady who could help them, and, having gotten over his envy a little during the past hour, he was willing to go along with her plan. Come to think of it, this place seemed pretty far from his home by the pond. How did he even end up in this place?

Suddenly, Greg called out, interrupting his thoughts.

"_Hey! Buried treasure!"_

"_Whoa, really? See, Beatrice? What'd you find?"_

"_A skeleton!"_

Greg stepped away, revealing a human skeleton lying at the bottom of the pit. Well, at least it wasn't a frog skeleton.

His brother cried in alarm, dropping his shovel.

"_We're digging our own… " _He couldn't even utter out the word.

Greg's brother then turned to the bird.

"_I-I-I-I-I was wrong. I-I was wrong all along. I dunno how to get us home. U-use your little feet to pick our locks!"_

"_Oh ho! Now you want my help?"_

"_I kind of want your help, but-"_

He was interrupted by a blaring trumpet and the beating of drums nearby. Everyone turned to the noise. The large pumpkin was coming towards them, with the pumpkin people following it, holding white flags in two of its streamers.

"_Yes! I want your help! Beatrice! Serious-"_

"_Your time is up!"_

Too late, the pumpkins have arrived.

"_Have the holes been dug?"_

"_Ahhh… Yeah," _the brother answered.

"_Splendid."_

"_B-but no!"_

"_No?!"_

While this was going on, Greg sank into his hole. Even he must have been nervous about the situation.

Suddenly, the bird scrambled over to Greg's hole. The frog hopped into the hole, curious to see what she was doing. She was standing on the lock binding the chain, and started to smack the keyhole with her shovel. Greg ducked down to whisper her something.

"_Did you unlock Wirt's?"_

"_Yes! Now be quiet!"_

The lock finally released. He looked over his shoulder at Wirt, who was still talking to the pumpkin, presumably stalling for them. Greg grabbed the frog and climbed out of the hole. Greg looked like he wanted to say something, but the bird shot him a deadly glare, and he ran from the site and into the woods.

As they fled, Greg called to the bird.

"_But what about Wirt?"_

She looked behind them and noticed that the brother hadn't followed them yet.

"_Ugh! Okay, wait here. I'll go get him."_

Greg's running came to a halt. The bird had flown back from where they came from.

Greg hugged the frog close to him. The frog could feel that Greg was tensed, even when his face sported the usual childish smile.

Not long after, the bird came back, but the brother was not seen with her.

_"Where's Wirt?" _Greg asked, concern in his voice.

_"Oh, he's coming," _the bird replied nonchalantly and settled on top of Greg's tea kettle.

Greg seemed reassured by her words, and he sat down on the ground, humming as he set the frog down. He lifted his arms, and the frog imitated him, not knowing what else to do while they waited.

Before long, the brother was running towards them from the town.

"_Are they chasing us?"_

"_Nope," _both Greg and the bird replied.

The brother breathed a sigh of relief.

"_I-I thought you guys-"_

"_Your welcome," _the bird cut him off.

A pause followed before he answered, "_Thank you. I guess we're even now. You're not… honor bound to help us anymore."_

She sighed, "_I wish, but you weren't actually in any danger with those weirdos."_

"_Oh yeah… Then you still have to help us get home."_

"_I got it!" _Greg interrupted, picking up the frog, "_I wish Wirt Jr. had fingernails so he could play the guitar better."_

No thanks, the frog much preferred the piano. All three of them stared at Greg as an awkward silence filled the air. Finally, the bird broke the quiet atmosphere.

"_So… yeah, I'll take you to Adelaide's. I mean, that's where I'm going anyway."_

"_Why are you going to Adelaide's?" _Greg asked as the trees around them grew thicker.

"_I guess in some ways, I'm trying to get home, too."_

"_That's vague. What does that mean?" _The brother asked.

"_I don't have to tell you anything."_

"_Well, I sure hope Adelaide is more helpful than that woodsman was. I think his directions were… not very good."_

While they walked, a soft breeze blew by, and a browning leaf was ripped free from its branch.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey! Sorry for the really late update. ^^' I got caught up with schoolwork and SAT. Plus, this chapter ended up longer than I expected, but I managed to squeeze time for this fic! I hope you enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 4: Schooltown Follies

The frog woke up to a bumpy ride. His vision took longer than usual to clear because it kept jumping up and down. Through his groggy thoughts he remembered that he was on top of a hyperactive little boy, who was currently hopping and skipping through the woods. A merry tune played in the frog's ear, Greg's tune. The frog grinned down at him. For his age, Greg wasn't a bad songwriter. He had effective use of rhythm and rhyme, and the tune overall was quite catchy. Maybe they could even start a band together. Though, that'll have to wait. Plus, it was a little uncomfortable riding Greg when he's bouncing around, so the frog jumped off from the tea kettle. Greg didn't seem too bothered and continued on with his song.

"_...Adelaide! To Adelaide!..."_

The frog was even tempted to sing along, but stopped short of embarrassing himself. He bet even Greg would be startled by his horrible frog voice. It was a shame, though, because no one else in the group was interested in singing along with Greg.

"_...Adelaide! To Adelaide! Let's go to Adelaide's house."_

The frog grimaced. The song immediately turned sour with its ending. No, it wasn't even an ending. It sounded like it stopped mid-line. The song had so much potential, it can't be wasted like that.

It was no wonder when the frog breathed a huge sigh of relief when Greg took note of his error and remarked that he'd fix it. Then, he tried to organize the group - excluding the frog, he sadly noted - to sing the song with him.

Of course, they both rejected the idea candidly, the bird especially by outright forbidding singing. That bird just loved unintentionally annoying the frog, does she? As Greg picked the frog back up, the frog glared daggers at her. As usual, she ignored him, too busy ushering the brother's slowing pace and discouraging Greg's talent. Whatever, the frog'll give her a piece of his mind one day.

After telling the brother to quicken his pace once again, the bird turned to Greg to resume her reprimanding. Though, this time, instead of telling Greg to simply be quiet, she pulled the sibling card, saying that Greg should be more like his brother. Okay, not exactly the sibling card, because a "pathetic pushover" doesn't sound like much of an example to follow, and the brother had the same thought. But the bird brushed him aside, in a way proving the brother's weak will.

Greg regarded the bird's words reluctantly, saying that it wasn't fun. Yes, that's the way to go. The bird knows nothing about music and its beauty. Again, the bird shot him down.

"_The world is a miserable place, Greg. Life isn't fun."_

Well, life wasn't entirely fun, but it was boring walking in silence. Let the kid have his fun.

Greg breathed deeply.

"_Then I'll do what I need to do, I guess."_

He placed the frog on top of his tea kettle, and then, when his brother and the bird weren't looking, he stole off deeper into the woods.

"_We have to do our part to make the world a better place!" _Greg declared.

"Or we can just make the bird submit to us," the frog replied. Of course, Greg could not understand frog language, so he just agreed.

Not long after, hearing the chime of a bell, the two came upon a clearing. A red, wooden schoolhouse stood in the middle of the clearing. Greg scoffed. Obviously, he did not find school enjoyable, and he ran back into the woods.

He didn't go far before hearing his brother calling out for him.

"_I'm here, Wirt!."_

There was no response, so Greg instead followed his brother's voice back into the clearing. He made a face, but walked towards the schoolhouse to check if his brother was there. Greg set the frog down, and peered in a window. The frog watched as Greg pointed into the window and made a thumbs down sign. Was school really that bad? If humans hated it so much, then why did they continue to use the method? Then again, was Greg like the other humans? Maybe he was like the frog, having interests that other frogs deemed weird.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Under the schoolhouse, something was moving in the darkness. Could it be a predator? The frog croaked out in alarm, and hopped as far away as he could from the schoolhouse. The croak caught Greg's attention, and he followed the frog laughing and eager to do whatever fun thing the frog was inviting him to do.

The frog hopped and hopped as fast as he can until he was at the edge of the woods, turning around to see if the animal had come out and pouncing with-

Oh, it was just a rodent. Well then, he guessed he might as well go back and-

He heard a loud rustling behind him.

Trembling, he turned his head to see what was behind him: the face of a raccoon.

The frog croaked in alarm, and he leaped towards Greg, who was still catching up to him. Greg sensed his fear, and he quickly scooped him up.

"_What's the matter?"_

Greg looked towards the direction that the frog had come from. The raccoon, who was wearing blue, torn overalls, had come out of the bush it was hiding in and was cautiously creeping towards the two.

"_Oh, hi there! It's okay, I won't tell on you for skipping school. That place stinks, anyway."_

The words only encouraged the raccoon to walk faster towards them, and the frog tried to shrink deeper into Greg's arms. Don't be nice to it!

The raccoon came up to Greg's side, and Greg stroked it gently and giggled. The raccoon, who hopefully didn't notice the frog yet, relaxed, and it called into the woods.

Suddenly, a deer burst through the trees and came to a stop in front of them. It grunted at the raccoon while taking nervous glances at Greg. The raccoon, on the other hand, replied calmly and reassuringly. The deer, instead of calming down, became more agitated and started to stomp on the ground furiously. This prompted the raccoon to respond more angrily. The two began to argue in front of Greg and the frog. It seemed like a full blown fight might have come between them had a loud squeaking not interrupted the two. The rodent from earlier had made its way to the group and was hanging down from a tree between the two.

The frog, who had forgotten about his fear, watched the scene in interest. As the rodent squeaked, or, to be more precise, harshly scolded the other two animals, the raccoon and the deer shrank into submission. It then finished off its lecture with a glare that, if looks could kill, would have ended the world right then and there. The frog could feel his fear return, but not for the raccoon this time. Even Greg was looking down at his feet, as if he had done something wrong and was caught red-handed.

A long, deadly silence followed, with the rodent daring the raccoon and the deer, and possibly Greg and the frog, to speak up. Finally, Greg decided to be the brave one to break the ice, uncharacteristically timid at first, and then quickly gaining the familiar confidence he always had.

"_Sooo… did you know that if you put a dog outside in the sun during the summer, it becomes a hot dog? It's a rock fact!"_

And with that, the tension subsided. The three animals crowded over Greg and started to chatter at him excitedly. They were apparently very interested in Greg's great wisdom. The frog, having heard Greg talk about "rock facts" while on their journey, was a little confused deep interest the animals held. They weren't even true. Now, if Greg had sang one of his songs, then the frog would understand.

Greg, boosted by his newfound popularity, held up his hand as if to silence the animals. It worked. They were completely silent. The frog could feel the confidence radiating off of Greg's body.

Greg sat on a fallen tree trunk, and the animals and the frog followed suit. The frog made sure that he sat on the side away from the raccoon.

"_So my theory is, hot dogs are not actually dogs. Regardless of what they teach at school," _Greg explained. Then, he smiled at the animals, "_But you guys don't go to school, huh?" _

He leaned in and whispered to them, "_I'm gonna stick with you guys."_

None of them answered, as if they did not dare to disrespect Greg's authority. He didn't seem to mind, though, and he laughed as the raccoon picked up a nearby black turtle and threw it into the pond.

"_Hey, I got an idea! Let's play two old cat! Do you guys know how to play two old cat?"_

He looked around. Again, no one answered, not even the frog, though he didn't because he had never heard of the game before. He knew some human games, like baseball, but "two old cat" did not ring a bell.

Greg offered to teach it. He walked towards the schoolhouse and pulled out an old cat from underneath the boards.

"_Here's one old cat."_

The deer was the first one to try it. It pulled another old cat from the the grass.

"_You found another one!" _Greg eagerly walked over to it, then frowned, "_Wait, no. I think that cat is too old."_

The cat meowed sadly, and Greg apologized to it. It looked at the group pitifully, as if it really wanted to join the game. The raccoon consoled it, pouring milk for it to lap. The frog was even tempted to catch a fly for it to eat.

Meanwhile, Greg was still searching for old cats. He pointed to a bush behind the rodent - or Jeffrey, as Greg called him. The bush was rustling pretty violently, with heavy breathing noises coming out of it. The rodent walked over to check.

A wailing gorilla burst through the leaves. The frog, alarmed by the noise (and the gorilla's ugly face) fled the scene as the gorilla let out another loud wail. He was not going to deal with that. Everyone else had the same idea.

The gorilla chased them down.

The group ran into a wall, and the animals all climbed up the schoolhouse to get as far away from the gorilla as possible. The frog climbed into Greg's tea kettle as Greg joined the animals in frantically scrambling up the schoolhouse walls. The frog hoped Greg didn't climb too high.

Suddenly, Greg's body began to swing haphazardly, and the frog was thrown around inside the kettle while a loud ringing of a bell was heard amongst Greg's shouting of "_Gorilla!"_. Ugh, don't tell him they all climbed onto the bell of the schoolhouse. That was way too high for his own comfort. Now how was he able to jump to safety?

The frog, after finally balancing himself, peaked out of the tea kettle. He looked towards the ground. The gorilla was still running towards them. It was a lot slower than the frog had initially thought, but it-

He was thrown back into the darkness of the tea kettle. The frog managed to cling onto Greg's hair before the noon light intruded his eyes.

The bell had flung everyone off with its momentum, and the tea kettle had flown off Greg's head, but the frog clung to Greg's head with as much power as he could, not wanting to fall to his death. Miraculously, the entire group fell on the gorilla, creating a soft landing.

This feeling of safety lasted only a second, however, as the gorilla quickly got up, throwing them off, and released a louder roar. Greg picked up his tea kettle hat as the frog hopped into it while the other animals took off.

In the bumpy darkness of the kettle, the only thing the frog could hear were the intense roars of the gorilla and Greg's frantic panting. Suddenly, the movement came to a stop. Not soon after, the wailings stopped abruptly as well.

"_We did it, guys! We beat the gorilla!"_

The frog hopped out of the kettle and onto the ground. The gorilla was lying on the grass, unconscious. The frog looked to the hanging rodent, a heavy stick was in its hands.

Greg put one foot on the gorilla, and put his hands on his hips, triumphantly posing. The raccoon and the deer clapped and cheered, though the rodent looked a little miffed as it crawled back to the ground. The frog patted its back.

"There, there. I know you worked hard for us, little rodent."

The rodent smiled at the frog, appreciating the consolation.

The frog opened its mouth, ready to say more when another roar pierced the sky, and the next thing he knew, everyone was again running from the gorilla's grasps.

Greg led the way, leading the group into the safety of the schoolhouse. They all ran into the dining room where the rest of the class was as the teacher shut the door to the outside, locking out the gorilla.

"_Now, now children. You know the drill, be quiet and sit down while I distribute your meals."_

The animals, Greg, and the frog all found their seats in the room. The frog could hear his own stomach growl. He looked at the meal: mashed potatoes. His growling subsided a little. He eyed the plate cautiously, then edged towards Greg, who was sitting next to him. Maybe he'll just catch some insects later. The frog would rather not eat something unfamiliar that might be detrimental to his health, plus he wanted to eat something crunchy. For now, he'll just enjoy the piano music.

Speaking of which, he looked over his shoulder at the piano the schoolteacher was playing. This was the first time he had ever seen a real life piano up close. Pianos have always fascinated him. The sounds were even better than when he heard them afar by his wall.

"_Oh boy! Meal time! This is way better than being chased by a gorilla!" _Greg exclaimed happily as he scooped up the mashed potato placed in front of him.

The rodent took a bite out of the mashed potatoes, and it immediately sulked, discouraging the frog's already dwindling appetite for potatoes.

"_Aw, boy, what's the matter?" _Greg asked, worried. He took a bite out of his own plate. He frowned, "_Hmm, kinda bland."_

The frog followed Greg's gaze. There certainly was a sullen atmosphere in the room. All the animals were looking at their food wearily, none of them touching it.

Then, his eyes went to the piano and landed on the jar of molasses sitting on top of it. He immediately lit up.

"_Hey! I know what to do!"_

He walked over to the schoolteacher.

"_Here, Ms. Langtree, play something like this!" _

The frog winced as Greg pounded on the piano, creating a cacophony of noises. Greg could consider piano lessons. The frog was impressed when the teacher was able to turn that mess into a coherent melody.

Meanwhile, Greg grabbed the molasses jar and broke out into song while pouring molasses in everyone's potatoes.

"_Oh potatoes and molasses_

_If you want some, oh just ask us _

_It's warm as soft like puppies in socks_

_Filled with cream and candy rocks!"_

Almost immediately, the whole room was filled with music and joy. Animals were happily chowing down on their food and waving their spoons in rhythm with Greg's song. Even the brother, who was usually a gloomy mess, was tapping his glass in tune with the music. The frog himself preferred to just sit there and enjoy the beauty of it, not wanting to disturb -and where did those instruments come from?

"_For potatoes and molasses!_

_For potatoes and-"_

"_That's enough!"_

A large, bespectacled man in a trench coat and top hat had burst through the door.

"_Is this what I've been paying for?!" _He said, dragging out his words.

"_Hey! We just wanted to have a little fun," _Greg answered back.

"_I didn't invest in this school for fun!" _The man turned to the teacher, " _I thought we were doing important work here, teaching animals how to count and spell."_

The frog looked around. None of the animals here seemed to know how to do that. Most of them don't even seem like they can wear clothing properly.

"_Oh please, father! Don't close the school. It won't happen again."_

"_I should say it won't."_

He walked over to the animals and confiscated their instruments.

"_Now send them to bed!"_

And so, everyone, including Greg and his brother, got into their nightgowns and were sent off to bed. Greg picked up the frog and set him beside him on the bed. Then, he placed his head in his hands, eyes pondering.

"_I just wanted to have fun, change the world and… make it a better place, but I just made everything worse," _Greg sighed.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," the frog croaked out. It really wasn't his fault. Greg was right. School was a bad place.

He looked to the bed next to him. The bird and Greg's brother were having another skirmish as usual. With the brother declaring that he'll "never give up" on something.

As soon as the brother declared that he would "never give up", Greg's mood lifted. There really was nothing that can keep this kid down.

"_Come on, Wirt. Let's go save the day!"_

They changed out of their nightgowns and climbed through an open window.

"_So what's the plan, Greg?" _The brother asked as they walked through the dark.

And with that, Greg was stumped. Well, they could always improvise with...whatever they were doing. Suddenly, a cry of despair came out from a nearby bush.

"_Who would have thought that making a primary school for animals was a bad idea."_

They all walked towards the source of the voice.

"_My savings, my home! All of it went into that dear, dear school, and now I'm forced to sell these instruments, just to keep the school open. D'oh!..." _

And on he went, lamenting about his troubles. He took off his trenchcoat, revealing a man much skinnier than his initial appearance. Not soon after, he fell asleep under his coat.

"_Okay, I think he's asleep," _Greg whispered, "_Let's go steal his stuff."_

Well, this was an interesting turn of events. Greg never struck the frog as someone who wanted to steal.

* * *

><p>"Wake up," the frog ribbited exasperatedly at the rodent.<p>

After the fifth attempt, the rodent finally managed to open his eyes. It let out an annoyed squeak.

"Took you long enough," the frog croaked, rolling his eyes. The rodent was the last one to wake, and boy did it take a long time. No matter, just give him the guitar and let it do the work. There's really no need for an explanation.

Greg led the rodent out to the stage, where a crowd had gathered, due to invitations being handed out prior. He pointed to a seat with a guitar sitting next to it. The rodent, a little confused, walked over to it. It looked at the sheet music that sat in front of him.

Greg stood in front of the animals, holding a conductor's baton.

"_And a one, a two, a one, two, three, four!"_

The music started out a little rough at first, since the animals had just been abruptly woken up to play for a surprise benefit concert, but their inner talent shown, and soon enough, their music started to gain interest from the crowd. The audience eagerly threw coins for more after each song.

The frog sat in front of the stage, looking rather out of place. He resisted the urge to sing along with the music. He still had a frog's voice.

Suddenly, the familiar roar of a gorilla interrupted the concert.

Everyone looked on in terror as it towered over the schoolteacher. The frog couldn't hear what the headmaster said over the gorilla's wails, but the next thing he knew, the older brother had fallen on the gorilla, and its head flew off, revealing a young man inside.

So it was a costume, that explained why the gorilla was so ugly.

The man revealed was actually someone who had supposedly left the schoolteacher, according to what the brother had explained last night.

The man explained the reason for his disappearance to his lover: he had gotten a job to pay for a wedding ring, but he couldn't get out of the gorilla suit. Everyone cheered as the teacher, tearful, embraced her lover, and the two reconciled their love.

As a finale, Greg sang his "Potatoes and Molasses" song. The frog looked on as the animals played their instruments, and a small hope budded in him. If these animals could potentially have a career in music, maybe he can, too.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey guys! Hoped you enjoyed this chapter. We're slowly getting to the juicy stuff. :D**


	5. Chapter 5: Songs of the Dark Lantern

_"Oh no! The Beast is upon me!"_

The frog flinched again. He was going to have a heart attack with that driver screaming the same thing over and over again.

Greg stuck his head out of the haystack they were hiding in. His brother asked him whether or not there was a Beast out there. Greg came back into the haystack with a goose in his arms. Greg didn't answer the question at first. Instead, he asked about how to make eggs from the goose (It's not a duck, Greg!). His calm preoccupation with the goose would suggest that he didn't spot anything dangerous, but the frog knew better. Greg was hardly troubled about anything. Nevertheless, Greg denied seeing a Beast.

The frog eyed the goose suspiciously, expecting it to talk. He's didn't need another talking bird in the group. Before the goose could make any sound, however, the frog heard his belly rumble ever so quietly. He hadn't eaten anything since leaving the schoolhouse this morning. The frog stuck out his tongue, he sure wished he could use it right about now. Greg's wistful calls for food weren't helping.

Suddenly, the driver made a sharp turn, and the haystack was flung from the cart, carrying everyone with it.

They climbed out of the haystack. A tavern stood at the end of the path, its presence foreboding and ominous. The frog thought he heard the most tortured whinny of a horse come from the tavern. The bird, for some reason, saw this as a stroke of luck. No it wasn't.

Then again, it was either stay out in the dark or rain or go to the creepy building that at least offered shelter. Besides, even if Greg didn't see it, the frog would rather not stay in a place where the Beast was sighted.

So, with the bird shouting at their backs, they walked towards either a shelter or their deathbed.

The brother, after struggling a bit, pushed open the door. The interior was a lot more...cozy than what it looked like on the outside. There was initial comfort with the warmth it brought, in contrast to the cold rain outside. There was a small stage in the corner with a band playing soft, morose music. People were sitting at tables, some chatting with one another, others silently glaring. One of them was weeping softly. A plump lady was busy sweeping the floor.

They walked to an empty table. Greg sat the frog down on a chair.

_"You. Wait. Here. I'll get some food."_

The frog winked after Greg. Back at the schoolhouse, Greg had tried to feed him some more potatoes and molasses before leaving. At first, the frog was defiant, but Greg ended up forcing it into his mouth, and, to his surprise, it tasted much better than he expected. Plus, he didn't have any fatal stomach aches after that, so now the frog had more faith in Greg's food choices.

Meanwhile, the plump lady had walked over to them and was starting to strike a conversation with the brother.

_"Well, hey there, peach pie, what you doin'-"_

Her eyes drifted to the bird.

_"Hey, what's that bird you got there?"_

The bird attempted to explain their situation, but it was only met with the whack of a broom. The frog held back a laugh.

_"No birds allowed in my tavern."_

The frog grinned. Even if he couldn't talk like the bird, at least he could stay in this warm tavern while she's stuck out in the rain. He knew he shouldn't be happy about their only guide home being stuck in the cold, but he just couldn't help it.

The bird's arguing only ended her up outside in the horse stable, where a lone horse was standing miserably.

It looks like it's up to the brother now to ask for directions, but that doesn't mean the frog would have faith in the brother's success. The last time he asked around, they had to work for pumpkin people.

The frog's attention was diverted by Greg coming back to the table with two plates full of food. His stomach was growling pretty intensely, having a new appetite for human food. Greg grabbed a loaf of bread from the plate and tore off a piece, offering it to the frog. He ate it up gratefully, and Greg, satisfied with the frog's pleasure, tore off another piece and munched on it.

Meanwhile, the brother was still busy talking with the sweeping lady, who was gesturing towards the other people in the tavern and giving them titles.

_"Who are you?"_ The woman demanded.

_"I'm hungry!"_ Greg piped in, waving his plates in the air. He jumped off the table he was sitting on, eager to get another plate full of food.

_"I-I dunno. I don't really like labels. I'm just sorta like...myself, you know?"_

Was it really that hard to just choose a title? It's not like they were staying here for that long, and they were here to get directions, not figure out what title suits the brother best. The frog could think of one from the top of his head. How about The Gloomy Poet?

_"Maybe he's simple,"_ one of the tavern goers suggested.

Of course, they could always go with simple, though he's too...indecisive to be simple. It actually makes him a little complicated to deal with. The frog was glad that it's the bird and Greg that has to deal with him, otherwise the frog would be too lost in finding out how to satisfy the brother's needs.

The frog was almost glad that crook had come onto the stage for a random song, interrupting the conversation. He was pretty sure the brother would never settle it with the woman. That boy just can't seem to be decisive about his answers.

His attention then turned to another platter of food that Greg had brought to their table. This one had a giant turkey on it. Maybe it was one of those turkeys from Pottsfield? Whatever, no need to soil his appetite with that thought, and the frog quickly pushed it to the back of his mind.

The platter of turkey and bread disappeared faster than the first two plates, and the frog hopped onto Greg's shoulder, eager for more. Greg laughed, and went over to grab a plate of roasted ham. The frog hopped onto the plate, taking in its wonderful scent of spices.

The frog eyed the brother. He hadn't eaten anything yet, but the last time they ate was in the morning, and the frog couldn't imagine him not being hungry after so long. In fact, he never seemed to be hungry. The frog was a little jealous, if he was never hungry, think of all the things he could do without having to hunt.

The frog considered offering some bread, but the brother seemed to preoccupied with looking for someone to ask for directions. Before the frog could hop over and croak out a question, he had gotten up from his seat and was walking towards a round, bearded man laughing contentedly to himself.

The frog watched as he munched on his piece of ham. Obviously, the bearded man did not know who Adelaide was. The man was assuming that Adelaide was a girl the brother was crushing on. It was too late for the brother to back out of the conversation, though, because the man suddenly swept up into a song.

The frog let out a laugh. Watching everyone in the tavern swarm around the brother and giving advice to get with a probably older woman was amusing, to say the least, not to mention the quirky song. If only those people knew that the brother would need more than a new set of clothes to impress a girl.

_"Oh hey! Beatrice! You want some food, too?"_

The bird had appeared by the open window beside them.

_"No, how's Wirt doing getting directions?"_

Well, currently, the tavern people seemed to have found a new liking to that guy, throwing him into the air. Too bad it didn't seem like they were listening to what he was saying. It seems like getting directions was going to take a while. Though, Greg disagreed.

_"Mmmm…Pretty good."_

The bird sighed and left the windowsill. Oh well, it wouldn't hurt to stay here for a while. The frog was not eager to go back out into the freezing rain.

His attention turned back to the brother. The tavern people were now egging him to sing a love song, and had thrown him onto the stage. Well, the brother was pretty good at poetry, so his singing skills shouldn't be that bad, hopefully. The frog leaned in, eager to see what he had to offer. The brother finally gave in and presented his song.

_"Ohh…"_

Oh...no.

The frog almost fainted. He stared at the scene wide-eyed. The frog couldn't fathom how Greg could be dancing at this, though Greg stopped as soon as his brother mentioned a stepdad. It seemed like an eternity before the brother finished his sorry excuse of a song. The frog made a plea to whatever divine being existed in this world. Please don't let him sing ever again.

_"This ain't no love song,"_ one the tavern people, a big, buff man, said.

No, it's not. It's an atrocity, and it's also not a metaphor, whatever that old, weeping guy was saying. The buff man somehow came to the conclusion that the brother was a pilgrim. Though, the frog came to the conclusion that the brother was a very bad singer.

The changing of titles from lover to pilgrim seemed to excite the tavern people even more, and everyone swarmed up to him again, this time trying to get the brother to tell them of his adventures. Even the brother seemed satisfied with this title. Whatever, as long as they don't tell him to sing again.

The frog was interested, too. If he didn't sing again, maybe the brother could come up with pretty cool stories, or he could recite their adventures in fancy poetry. Before he could find out, though, a leftover turkey leg caught his attention, and suddenly it was as if he had not eaten yet at all.

The frog gulped down the leg quickly, and as soon as he did, Greg picked him up to show to all the tavern people.

_"...and helped me find this frog!"_

Everyone cheered.

Well, Greg could always leave out the part where his brother yelled at him.

_"More! Tell us more!"_

The tavern people surrounded the table and picked up Greg and held him up high with his brother. The brother continued to tell of their adventures.

_"And...oh! And, um, I met this helpful woodsman who told us which direction to go to avoid the Beast."_

At the mention of a Beast, the brother was immediately dropped as everyone gasped and whispered in fear. The tavern people seemed to know full well who the Beast was.

_"We all know the Beast, pilgrim,"_ the plump sweeping lady piped up, and she broke into an ominous song.

_"He lurks out there in the Unknown,_

_Seeking those who are far from home,_

_Hoping to never let you return._

_Ohh, you better beware._

_Ohh, the Beast is out there._

_Ohh, better be wise,_

_And don't believe in his lies._

_For once your will begins to spoil,_

_He'll turn you to a tree of oil,_

_And use you for his lantern for to burn."_

Wait, so if what the woman said was true about the Beast having a lantern, then the only person the frog knows who always carries a lantern around him was the woodsman they had first encountered, the very man who had warned them about the Beast. Maybe there was another person who carries around a lantern? The brother caught on to this as well, and tried to explain this to the woman. The woman, however, insisted that whoever carries the "dark lantern" had to be the Beast.

Well, looks like the tavern people actually didn't know all that much about the Beast. Even if the directions the woodsman gave them led to them, according to the lady's words, "more lost than ever", that didn't mean they weren't already lost before. The brother seemed to have given up, and changed the subject to getting directions for Adelaide.

Obviously, the tavern people were no help with that.

_"You don't need directions, pilgrim. Just follow the compass inside his heart."_

It seemed like the tavern people still think the brother was in love with Adelaide. Oh well, better luck next time.

Suddenly, someone shrieked. In a second, the frog realized that it was the bird's. Did she wander away from the tavern?

The tavern people immediately broke into encouragement, egging the brother to go save her. Greg even joined in on the cheering. The frog wasn't sure about this, but the brother was pretty much their only hope in getting the bird out alive.

The brother gave in to the pressure, and ran out to the stables, freeing the horse that was there. He rode over and grabbed Greg and the frog, and on they went into the woods, unusually swift with his actions.

_"Beatrice! Beatrice?"_

He stopped. In front of them was yet another despairing tree. The frog felt queasy just looking at it.

_"Halt!"_

They all turned to the voice. It was the woodsman's, angrier than ever.

_"I told ya to leave these woods!"_

Well, the directions didn't help one bit! The frog remembered the warning from the tavern woman. His suspicions rose when he spotted the bird lying unconscious at the roots of the tree. The brother narrowed his eyes.

_"You were the Beast all along…"_

He immediately blew out the lantern he was holding, allowing the dark to surround them. He went for the woodsman's legs, keeping the woodsman from moving with considerable strength while the horse whinnied aggressively. The frog couldn't help but look at the scene in surprise.

_"Greg! Get Beatrice!"_

_"What are you doing? Boys! The Beast is upon you!"_

Suddenly, the tree was on fire, and Greg grabbed the frog. The two brothers fled the scene, taking the horse with them.

When he was saddled onto the horse, Greg took off his tea kettle and put the frog in it. The frog took the bird in his hands. Greg seemed to have his hands full.

The frog eyed Wirt, who was busy keeping the horse under control. Needless to say, that was...impressive.

The frog then looked behind him, it didn't seem like -

_"Nice to horse your acquaintance!"_

The frog almost dropped the bird he was holding. The horse could talk, too?

As if sensing his shock and despair, the horse let out the most obnoxious laugh ever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I realized that this episode is pretty Wirt-centric. He seemed to be the only one doing work in this episode, so I tried to use this one to develop the frog's perception of Wirt some more, and he's finally calling Wirt by his name. It was so annoying to type "the brother". **

**Also, while watching this episode, I caught this funny background event. There's a part where when Greg says "One time Wirt fell on a gorilla!" when people were calling Wirt a pilgrim, and the frog is just off to the background looking at a leg with this look as if he had found gold. Yeah, it was that scene in this chapter where he spots the turkey leg. XD**


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